open teacher

Student Council Prez [3]

Episode 2 - Episode 3
Words: 2085
Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, High School!Au

“-therefore the soldiers began putting a bucket of water near the machine gun and it wasn’t until 1942 that th-”

Yoongi holds in a yawn, eyes trailing outside until a sudden bang jolts him out of his drowsy daze. He turns to the source of the sound, a girl who just slammed the door open and the teacher frozen at the front of the classroom. He turns back to look outside but then does a quick double take when he realizes that girl is you.

“What ar-” Before he can string words together, you’ve stormed up to his desk and slammed a hand down.

“Listen. I can’t join you after school today.”

Keep reading

                                            “Their Minds Are Open”

Originally designed for students, can be used with family members or friends who need that little nudge to think about things. It doesn’t cause a fundamental shift in views, simply makes the mind more able to think about new ideas and suggestions without bias. 

“This wouldn’t work”

Remus Lupin x Reader (teacher x student)



It was a cold, rainy Saturday in November and Y/n was sitting in the owlery, looking outside, where the icy winds blew around the red leaves. Y/n wasn’t the person to be very sensitive but somehow she felt a sense of homesickness today. 

Keep reading

@littlestpersimmon this isn’t very good because I’ve been writing it on a note on my phone but I thought maybe you’d enjoy my ideas about kindergarten!Kent and his teacher. The best kindergarten teacher I know was a certified scuba diver… and after graduating high school I decided to become one too, because their passion stuck with me. I’ve had a history of passionate teachers who love what they do, and I wanted that for Kent.

Hockey doesn’t enter the life of Kent Parson seriously until the very first day of kindergarten. Mrs Smith is an older lady (well, old to kindergarteners but probably only a decade into her teaching career) and she’s well known and well lived in the community. And she’s absolutely mad for hockey.

His first day is okay. He’s kind of afraid at first, but he’s Kent Parson and by snack time he’s got a gaggle of friends and they’re eagerly listening to Mrs Smith read a hockey book. When he’s picked up by his mom that evening after the after-school program he excitedly tells her all about his day.

His mother recalls in an interview after he’s drafted by the Aces that it was the first time he’d ever mentioned playing hockey. And that’s when life changed.

Mommy enrolled him in a learn to play hockey program a few weeks later, after getting a flyer in his backpack from a kind Mrs Smith, who saw Kent’s excitement and knew of a program that was affordable and single parent friendly.

Kent learned a lot that year. He learned every NHL team from the pennants on the walls (and how to read them!) all the jerseys of his favorite players (and numbers!) how to work together (like on a hockey team!) and how to work alone (like a penalty shot!!). He learned to skate forwards and backwards, how to hockey stop and even got to play goalie!

Dear Mrs Smith sees that excitement Kent has for the game on the weekends when she goes to all the games her husband coaches: mites and squirts and peewees and bantams. Of course at Kent’s level the little ones are following the puck in a group and still wobbling around on shaky legs, but she’s here for the joy, not the sick plays. They watch enough professional NHL hockey at home, weekend days are for the kids and their unbridled joy for things they love.

Her favorite memory of little Kent Parson was his last day of kindergarten when he hugged her and told her that she could wear his jersey someday, promise! She had smiled and hugged him back and sent him on his way to first grade, thankful once again for the job she got to do every year.

She keeps tabs on as many of her kids as she can. Bobby married three years ago and has a little girl, Shelly swims for a college down south, Austin moved to New York to act, Janie’s oldest daughter is in her new class.

But she can’t help but tear up when a picture of little Kent Parson lifting the Stanley Cup over his head is the front page of the local news. She and her husband attend the parade the city holds, and John has the picture of Kent hoisting the Stanley Cup over his head framed for her classroom.

And her favorite memory of the no longer so little Kent Parson is when he awkwardly knocks on her classroom door a few days before he heads back to Vegas, a backwards cap on his head and a jersey under his arm.

She didn’t think he’d remembered her, which was fine. Her job was to give her small ones a solid foundation for their education, a passion for learning, a good first year to grow and learn.

But when he holds out the jersey for her with that same silly smile she’d seen years ago on a much smaller Kent Parson she can’t help but grin and ignore the jersey while she wrapped him up in a hug.

After letting him go, she takes the offered jersey and flips it over to see his name on the back.

“I told you that you could wear my jersey someday, Mrs Smith.” He says softly, his eyes flitting around the pennants that still grace the walls, eyes lighting up when he sees the Aces one in the collection. “I had to keep my promise.”

And for that, she has to wrap sweet little Kent Parson up in another hug, jersey once again forgotten on her desk.

A New Lesson

Hello there.

 I’ll be honest and say I’ve never really posted fan fiction before, and I’m pretty terrified. However, there’s a first time for everything. *Inserts grin with too many teeth* Anyway, this fic follows feysand as little second graders and has been sitting in my computer for far too long.

 As a not so random side note, I am fully aware that it’s feysand smut week, and with eight-year-old characters, this definitely isn’t that.

“Turn to chapter 54. Today we’re reading the short story version of Beauty and the Beast,” Mr. Keir told his students.

Grumbling rolled around the rooms as students griped about how, “We should just watch the movie”.

“Oh, don’t complain. We will be watching the movie once we finish the story, but we’ll be reading it-“ he paused-“popcorn style. Now, I will not tolerate any passing. Make sure you open to…”

While the teacher droned on, Feyre Archeron subtly looked at the girl’s textbook next to her to see the picture painted at the top of the chapter. Her fingers grazed through the pages until they found the same image in her own. As a Second grader, Feyre knew she should be able to read somewhat, but no one in her house, or any teachers, had ever bothered to take the time to teach her.

The popcorn style opened with some kid named Lucien, whose hand was high in the sky. Unlike everyone else, Feyre’s eyes were never anywhere near her textbook, as they were fully focused on a blank sheet of paper next to her book. She painstakingly drew a castle in the mountains while voices around the room wove the tale of the reader-becomes-princess, one Feyre despised. She thought she was in the clear of being called on, since she was new and no one would know her name.

Her face was practically kissing her drawing when a shrilly voice called.

“Popcorn…Farrah, Philippa, Faerie.. the new girl.”

Feyre’s body stilled.

“You must mean Feyre, our newest addition. Right, Amarantha?” The teacher crooned from his desk.

“Sorry. Popcorn, Feyre,” Amarantha repeated.

Feyre whispered, “Pass.”

The teacher tsked his tongue, “I know this is your first day, Feyre, but as I stated earlier there is no passing.”

Feyre didn’t even know what page they were on. Her rudimentary drawing of the moon and some mountains showing exactly what page she was on.

She wiped her hands against her legs and swallowed to bring moisture to her dry throat.

Everyone’s eyes were on her at her silence. Flipping pages pounded through the room as Feyre desperately tried to find the right one.

She hoped that Amarantha girl would call on someone else.
Hoped the teacher would cut her slack.
Hoped everyone would stop their staring.
Hoped someone would just read for her.

“I’ll read,” Some godsend called. 

“Rhysand, it’s not your turn.”

“I know, but I really want to. Fay-re can read later.”

The teacher’s glare was full of ice, but his voice was sweet as honey, “Rhys, we must take turns, and right now it’s Feyre’s. Maybe if you’re lucky she’ll call on you when she’s done.”

There was no way Feyre would since she would never be done if she couldn’t even start.

“C’mon, it’s her first day. Give her a break.”

Feyre whipped around to see the boy defending her and stifled a gasp.

He was by far the cutest boy in the class. But even more alarming were his violet eyes staring at their instructor, with an equal amount of ire as their teacher.

No one glared at teachers like that.

The staring match between Mr. Keir and Rhys seemed relentless, until Keir finally sighed, “Just for today, Feyre, you’re off the hook. Know that this is not the norm, and you will be expected to read. And please, pretend that you’re at least following along.”

Feyre’s cheeks warmed at the accusation, but she relaxed as Rhys’s voice filled the room.

When the bell finally rang for recess, Feyre sprang from her seat. The easiest way to go unnoticed was to sit on the farthest away swing. She just hoped that no other social outcast had taken the spot. Upon initial analysis, the best seat was the one in a set of two that faced the woods, and Feyre raced to it.

As she sat on the swing, she reminded herself that she wasn’t dumb, she just never learned to read. That was the truth. But what was also true was that she couldn’t go her life being ill-tolerant, or whatever the word was for someone who couldn’t read.

Math wasn’t as bad since it was more symbol association than anything else. Which, some would argue that’s what reading was.

Someday, hopefully soon, she would learn. Yet, she just didn’t know who she would ask to teach her. She needed someone who would do it judgment free. Definitely not her sister Nesta, she was too bitter, and Elain could, except she wouldn’t hide it from Nesta, eliminating her as an option.

Lost in thought about possible tutors, Feyre nearly leapt off the swing when a voice called from behind her.

“Excuse me,” except it sounded more like, “Excuth me.”

Feyre turned to see the same boy from class waiting behind her with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Can I join you?” Rhys asked after he already seated himself next to her.

She bobbed her head yes.

“I’ve been looking for you. My friend thaid to leave you alone because of cooties, but I don’t believe in that thtupid thtuff. Or at leatht not anymore.”

Feyre didn’t know how to reply, and blurted out, “Cooties aren’t real. And you didn’t have a lisp in class. Why do you have one now?”

“Well, I don’t want Keir, or anyone else, to taunt me, so I hide it in class. I can talk faster with it, though.”

Through his hurried speech, he struggled through the words, “else”, “so”, “class" and “faster”. Feyre just nodded along as if this boy made sense.

“Anyway, I don’t think you’re shy. Or at leatht you could be. But, do you have problemth reading? Because I can help you. My adopted brother, Cathian, had this thing called,” his finger tapped his lips while the other stayed behind his back, “dinothaur anorethia, or thomething like that. He thays the letters blur together on the page. I can help you. I helped him.”

Feyre couldn’t find it in herself to mention that his lisp was only there part of the time or say she was ill-tolerant, even if she did know that he meant dyslexia when talking about his brother, and wouldn’t judge if she messed up a word too. It was too embarrassing.

She looked away.

“You don’t need to feel bad. I mean, I have a lisp. I just want to help, Feyre.”

The innocence in the way he said her name made her whisper, “I can’t read.”

There was a loud, drawn-out “oh” from behind her, and Feyre turned back around.

“I think I can thtill teach you. I brought my favorite book.”

From behind his back, Rhys pulled out Greek Mythology for Kids.

He opened to a dog-eared page. “My cousin, Mor, said that you were drawing during class, and thought you might like the story of Persephone  and Hades. She said you seemed a little bored with the whole Beauty and the Beast thing. It’s my favorite, too. Persephone and Hades that is, not Beauty and the Beast.”

Feyre brought her swing closer to Rhys’s, indicating for him to begin, and followed his fingers across the page. He enunciated each word slowly, having her repeat after him. The next day, against her doubts, he found her again. And the next day, and the next. Until every day, she not only learned to read, but to expect him, and every day the two began a new lesson.

(A/N When I wrote this, I had just finished watching Stranger Things, and fell in love with Dustin’s lisp. So that why Rhys has one. Because I think it’s adorable for the High Lord to have a little lapse in his demeanor)

Teacher’s Pet (Steve x Reader)

Hope you guys liked our first imagine the other day! Here’s another one for ya!(:


“(Y/N)! Why aren’t you in your training gear?” Steve’s question interrupted the conversation you were having with Natasha at the kitchen table. 

“Steve it’s my first day of class… Did you forget?” You were too excited to be hurt at the Captain’s forgetfulness. You were starting a new semester and had finally managed to snag a seat in the most coveted class in school.

“Oh,” Steve was blushing heavily as he locked eyes with Natasha who had her eyebrows raised as she took a sip of her coffee. “I guess I must have. Sorry, doll, old age I guess.”

You just laughed and shook your head as you grabbed your bag and dirty dishes to put in the sink. “I’ll always forgive you Cap! And I’m really sorry about training, I’ll grab a quick session with Sam or someone later okay?”

Steve didn’t have time to respond as you jogged off to start your very exciting day. 

“Old age?” 

“Whatever Romanoff.”


You gave a dreamy sigh as you walked into the training room later that day. Steve and Sam were the only ones in there, and at the sund of your entrance they both stopped what they were doing.

“You okay there (Y/N)?” Sam asked with a smirk on his face as he took in the goofy smile playing on your lips.

“I am better than okay Sam. I am great!” You giggled as you drew closer to the two men who were standing on the sparring mat, sweaty and breathing a little heavy (well at least Sam was). “But I’ll have to tell you about it later, Natasha said she needed you for something in the living room.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted as his head gave a small nod, “I see. Well I will let you guys practice then.” Sam shot one more look to Steve before heading out of the gym.

“So is it too late to ask you to train with me?” Your smile was a iittle more shy as you stared up into Steve’s blue eyes. “I really didn’t mean to miss this morning but..” You trailed off as your smile got to big to finish.

“But you had class?” Steve quirked an eyebrow in confusion. “I don’t remember any of my classes ever making me as happy as yours seem to do?”

“Oh Steve it was great!” You grabbed Steve’s hands out of pure joy, and didn’t even register the looks of hesitation and excitement that crossed Steve’s face. “The class was AMAZING! I’ve been hearing about it since even before I got to the school, and it’s exactly what I want to do with my life, besides fight bad guys of course.”

Steve’s heart was hammering in his chest as he listened to the passion in your voice. His blue eyes were locked on your sparkling (Y/E/C) ones as you went on and on about the first day class. Steve would be lying (badly) if he said he didn’t have feelings for you. You were beautiful, funny, kind, and the smartest person he had ever met (including Tony and Bruce).  So as you described exactly what the class was about Steve started to lean in, unable to resist the temptation any longer with you being as beautiful as you were right in the moment. But then…

“But the best part is Dr. Foreman! He is the most amazing man I have ever met!” With that exclamation Steve pulled back (not that you had noticed him moving in in the first place). 


“Dr. Foreman! He is the kindest, gentlest soul. And he is BRILLIANT! Don’t get me wrong Tony and Bruce are great, but Dr. Foreman speaks to my soul! He even spent half of today answering one of my questions, which he praised me for! And after class he pulled me aside to say that he would be looking for a new TA so if I do really well I could be it!” Your hands squeezed Steve’s a little tighter as his face fell.

“Oh. Well good job doll. I knew you had it in you,” Steve pulled his hands away from years and began to step away, a morose look clouding his usually happy face.

“Steve is something wrong?” Your eyebrows were knit as you reached out for one of Steve’s hands again.

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” He whispered as his darkening eyes looked into yours once again. He turned his body to face you. With your hand still holding his, he took a step closer to you and raised his free hand to cup your cheek, his rough thumb brushing against your smooth skin. : How could I have ever stood a chance with you? You deserve the kindest man you’ve ever met. Someone with a gentle soul who can keep up with you intellectually. I’m just some kid from Brooklyn.” His thumb grazed the corner of your lip before it was gone. 

Steve was about to take a step before when you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him right on the lips. His response was immediate as his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. You both pulled back a second later, breathing a little heavier than normal.

“Steve, I love you. I love everything about you and I don’t include you in the category of everyone else in the world because you are so far ahead of all of them in terms of kindest and gentlest and even smarts. Steve, ‘some kid from Brooklyn’ is exactly my type.”

Steve’s heart couldn’t believe it as it danced to your words. “(Y/N) I have loved you for months now. But what about Dr. Foreman?”

“Steve he’s my professor! I like him in the way that I’m excited to go to class every time, not in the way that I want to kiss him and go on dates. Plus he’s old enough to be my dad.”

“I’m old enough to be your grandpa,” Steve laughed as his arms went around your waist once more, and pulled you in tight.

“Yeah, but you sure don’t look it.” Steve barely got out another laugh before you kissed him again.


Hope you guys liked it!!! Requests are OPEN for imagines, preferences, and ships!


  • Me: *during presentation* And that, my friends, is how-
  • Mystic Messenger: A new chat room has opened
  • Teacher: Hey where are you-get back here you can't just leave!
  • Me: *tapping at phone* Did you eat yet?

foreshadowing or…?

As always Roderick was in a rush on his way out to work. He didn’t know if it was from sleeping late or just excited to get to his class that caused him to forget his apartment keys. Thank goodness for the press to start cars, all he needed was the button that stayed in his pocket always. He waited in the cold air for someone to come to the complex. As they walked by, he gave a smile. Feeling bad for feeling creepy. Once the person unlocked the door, he jumped behind. “Oh.. heeeeeey” He said, drawing out his greeting. “Forgot my keys again” He laughed as he waited to see if the person would let him in. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to pick a lock too by chance, would ya?” He asked.